


Fellow Soldiers

by WattStalf



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Homophobic Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 20:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5884576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WattStalf/pseuds/WattStalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I fuckin' know what I said,” he interrupted. “You tryna imply that I would wanna...wanna...do somethin' like that?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fellow Soldiers

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this smut for a while, but never felt like I could back when I first had the idea. Now I have zero inhibitions and will write just about anything,no matter how poorly I end up doing it, so merry Christmas.

Dr. Manhattan walked into a bar, and that wasn't a setup, but it sounded like one and, like any good comedian would, he wondered what the punchline would be. But it wasn't one, it was what actually happened, he suppressed the groan that threatened to make itself heard. It was too late to pretend he hadn't seen the man, if that's even what he could be called, and it was definitely too late to make his excuses and get out before being trapped in another conversation that he didn't want in.

He wasn't afraid of the creep, no matter what some part of him thought, and because of that, he supposed Dr. Manhattan saw them as friends or something of the sort, and had sought him out several times over the month and a half that had passed since his arrival in Vietnam. Just because Eddie was not afraid, however, did not mean he liked him, and he really, really disliked him. Vietnam was his show, his big performance, and his war to win, and so fucking what if he hadn't done it yet? He was getting there and he didn't need some blue freak stealing the show from him- especially not the blue freak that was fucking his daughter. But nobody was supposed to know about that.

“I find you here a lot,” said Jon, approaching him. Why he even bothered walking around like he was normal when he could just appear wherever the fuck he wanted, _when_ ever the fuck he wanted, Eddie didn't know. He'd take advantage of powers like that, no questions asked.

“Not many other places to go,” the Comedian replied with a shrug before downing the rest of his drink. Almost immediately, it was refilled; they knew him here, and they knew he was nowhere near done for the night, especially not if he was expected to have to try to talk to this guy.

“I suppose that's true, but you haven't spent much time with the other soldiers. More often than not I find you alone.” His voice was rarely anything but a monotone, and the only change in tone came from the slightest hint of curiosity he sometimes used, but even that was not a major change and it had taken a lot of listening to really notice. That was the tone he used now.

“War's almost over, right? No point in bondin' now.” He wanted to roll his eyes, but he held back. There had been a time, early on, when he had spent time with the other soldiers; the younger men had grown up idolizing him and, at first, he had humored them and shared stories, but that got old, and he couldn't really relate to anyone else out there. That seemed to be a consistent pattern with him and group settings. If he fit in anywhere, he hadn't found that place yet, but that didn't really bother him.

A small trace of a smile formed on Dr. Manhattan's face, and he replied, “Yes, I've heard that the conflict will end shortly.” As if he didn't already know, as if he wasn't once again playing at being normal.

This time, Eddie did roll his eyes. “Whoop-de-fuckin'-do,” he muttered.

The trace of a smile vanished and Jon cocked his head ever-so-slightly. “I don't understand your lack of enthusiasm. You've been here much longer than I have. I'd think you would miss the comforts of home most of all.”

He wouldn't explain his thoughts; even if he wanted to, which he didn't, he wouldn't bother with someone who probably still wouldn't understand. “Well, I can get booze and bitches here too, so what's to miss?” he asked with a smirk.

“There are still many differences between here and New York,” was the reply he received, and he shook his head with a groan.

“Ya don't get humor much, do ya?” asked Eddie. “That was a joke, just so ya know.”

“I've been...told that before,” he said.

“Yeah? Who toldja that?” He couldn't help himself. “That gal of yours?”

“Laurie has criticized my sense of humor in the past,” replied Dr. Manhattan. “But I don't think she would like yours either. She dislikes you.”

“'Course she does.” Of course she did. Sally would have told her by now, or she would have figured it out somehow; it wasn't exactly a secret, what he had done, but he wondered if she would hate him more or less if she knew the real secret. He wanted to change the subject. “How come you ain't gone to see her this whole time?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can go anywhere ya want in a split second. Ya coulda visited her every night since ya got here, but as far as I know, ya haven't. Not even once. Why not?”

“I don't think visiting home so freely while nobody else can is appropriate,” he said simply. “I am at war, and should behave like I am.” It was almost funny how a man most people considered a god was so willing to follow rules that shouldn't have to apply to him.

“Aw, come on, you could get laid every night, and wouldn't even have to cheat like most of the other guys here. What's up with that?” he asked with a chuckle. “Won't fuck a bitch here, won't go home to your little girlfriend...”

“I don't see any need to have relations with anyone here. At least, I have not slept with any of the local women and will not for the remainder of my stay here.” There he went, with his bullshit that only he could see, but something else about his statement stood out to Eddie.

“That was awfully specific,” he said.

“What was?”

“Whatever the fuck ya said, specifying 'local women' an' shit.” He shook his head. “Just an observation, forget it.” He didn't want to think about whatever freaky things his daughter's boyfriend might be planning to do before they all got shipped back to the states. In fact, the brief images alone made him reach for his drink, and he downed it in record time.

The two fell into silence as he kept knocking them back, with no foreseeable end in sight. It took a lot to get him really drunk; he had experience and he was not a small man by any stretch of the imagination. He kept waiting for Jon to take the hint and leave, but instead, he continued to watch Eddie drink in silence, almost expectantly. Even when the edges in his mind started to blur and he began to feel a bit more at ease, Jon remained beside him at the bar.

“Whattaya want from me?” he finally asked.

“I'm just waiting,” replied Dr. Manhattan.

“Waitin' for what, exactly?” Eddie laughed, and a bit harder than he would have normally. “Your dream boy to show up? Gonna get some action tonight? Wouldn't have figured ya for a damn faggot.”

“You aren't homosexual either,” said Jon.

“What the fuck is that s'posed to mean?” he snapped, growing defensive.

“You were claiming that I am-”

“I fuckin' know what _I_ said,” he interrupted. Why was his breathing catching like that? Why was there heat pooling in the pit of his stomach? Why was he thinking more about what Dr. Manhattan could do with a male soldier, when drinking was supposed to make him think about it less? “You tryna imply that _I_ would wanna...wanna...do somethin' like _that_?”

“I was only saying what you want to happen.”

“You fuckin' think I would _want_ that?” He shook his head, and he hoped that his heartbeat was increasing from anger or panic or anything but what he feared that it might be. “If this is some fucked up way to trick me into this...”

“Have you changed your mind?” Jon blinked. “That's surprising. I haven't had someone do that without me seeing it. But very well.”

“Fuck you,” he grumbled, looking away and shifting in his seat. _No, no, no_. He didn't want this, he wasn't going to do this, he wasn't going to acknowledge the erection that he had been sporting for a few minutes now. This wasn't happening.

“That wasn't an invitation,” said the other man, and it was an observation rather than a question, at the very least. But something about that statement, about the fact that all he seemed to need _was_ an invitation- that was what broke Eddie and he stood up suddenly, grateful that the bartender didn't seem to have overheard anything.

“Let's get out of here,” he said quickly. “We're not doin' this out in the motherfuckin' open.”

“You haven't changed your mind then.” Jon rose as well, and Eddie did not bother responding to him as he quickly walked out of the bar, keeping his head low as he searched for a place.

“C'mon, walk faster,” he muttered under his breath. “Don't want anyone seein' us and gettin' ideas.”

“I could move us to somewhere private without anyone seeing us.”

“Fuck that, not lettin' you do that weird teleportation shit with me.” Finally locating a secluded area, he gestured for Jon to follow him, not sure what happened now. This wasn't what he wanted, but he was so fucking hard and he wanted it really, really badly. He clenched his fists, he grit his teeth, and he huffed.

“How would you like to begin?” asked Dr. Manhattan, and Eddie turned, surprised to find that he was already naked. He was sure there was lust in his gaze, and he hated that there was, but he didn't know how to stop what was happening.

“Fuck if I know. How do we...ya know? Why don't you just fuckin' do whatever ya see happening, and I'll just play along,” he said at last. Jon didn't say anything or even bother nodding before Eddie felt his clothes begin to slide off of him with much more ease than he could ever get them off, or even on, and if he had been sober, he knew that alone would have freaked him out enough to send him on his way.

When his pants his the floor, he lifted a leg to step out of them and found his boots had loosened enough that his feet slid out of them without any effort. He hoped that the change wasn't permanent and that his clothes would go back to normal once this freaky experience was over. And he still didn't know what he was supposed to be doing; it wasn't like he had ever fucked a man before.

But then Jon was bending him over something, and  _wait just a goddamn minute_ , that wasn't what he wanted, that wasn't what he was supposed to do. There were a hell of a lot of lines that he was already crossing tonight and that sure as fuck was not going to be one of them. Yet he didn't make a move to stop him, he only offered a weak protest of, “But that's not...”

“This is how we do this. You're uncertain, but I make sure that it's good for you and it doesn't hurt.” He was so sure of himself, and Eddie wanted to protest more but found that he couldn't and instead found himself complying, trying to relax, waiting. What the fuck was wrong with him? This was so fucked up he couldn't even begin to express it; first and foremost he was letting himself get fucked by the guy who was fucking his goddamn daughter, and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

He expected it to hurt a hell of a lot more than it did; that was every girl's excuse for not wanting to do that with him, and any of them who would said it hurt the first time, but somehow, Jon was right and it just  _didn't_ . In fact, he didn't know what to say that it felt like, but the word  _electric_ came to mind. So did the phrase  _perfect fit_ , but that was too goddamn corny and this wasn't one of those situations.

He really didn't expect to like it, but there was something about feeling Jon's weight pressing into him and the warm spark of his body against him, the same warm spark he felt inside of him now, that made him moan even as he fought to remain silent. Then Dr. Manhattan began slow rhythmic thrusts, and Eddie was sure that being a perfect fuck, regardless of the situation, must be another one of his powers and that that was the only explanation for all of this bullshit.

It did not take him nearly as long as it should have to get close, but he'd be damned if he allowed himself to come just from being fucked in the ass. He didn't care what it looked like, he wasn't a queer, and this wasn't going to be all it took to get him off. There were only two options, and neither really made the situation much better, but one at least did not make it worse. So, rather than beg to be touched, he wrapped his hand around his own cock and began to desperately work at himself, biting his lip.

His moans were reduced to pants and whimpers, of all things, and he was almost glad that he was just about there, because he really just wanted this to be over. None of it made any sense, why he had wanted it, why Jon had gone along with it, why he had enjoyed every second, why he kept thinking about someone that he knew he shouldn't be, and he was going to need a really strong drink to try and forget all of this. When he came, the relief was nearly equal to the bliss.

Eddie didn't move for a long time, even when Jon pulled out of him and stepped back, waiting for him to say something. There wasn't anything for him to say, not after all that had happened and all that he could not understand. He was, for once, entirely speechless, though one joke came to mind, one tasteless enough that it suited his sense of humor, but one that he couldn't really find funny and one that he couldn't bring himself to make.

_Do I fuck as good as Laurie?_

**Author's Note:**

> what happens in nam, stays in nam


End file.
